


this masquerade

by Dresupi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Costume Parties & Masquerades, Deepthroating, F/M, Face-Sitting, Friends With Benefits, Kinktober 2018, Masks, Not Epilogue Compliant, Porn with Feelings, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 06:57:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16153937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dresupi/pseuds/Dresupi
Summary: Despite their masks, Draco and Hermione each find the other with minimal trouble.They've got to stop meeting like this.But not tonight.





	this masquerade

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Day 1 of of the Kinktober Challenge. Today’s kinks are Masks, Deep Throating, and Face Sitting.
> 
>  

Hermione adjusted the mask on her face once more, squinting into the mirror over Pansy’s vanity. “Merlin’s beard, I really don’t look like me, do I?”

“Told you…” Pansy said with a smirk. “No one will be any the wiser.”

Bringing her hand up to her hair, Hermione marvelled at the literal magic Pansy had performed on the frizzy mess she’d come in with. She hadn’t meant to come in with a mess, of course, but work had run long, she’d missed her hair appointment, and the masquerade ball was beginning at dusk…

She’d almost just turned tail and run home, curled up on her sofa with a stack of books and a pot of tea, but Hermione knew her friend wouldn’t have forgiven her for missing the ball. Pansy had been planning it for months. It was the least she could do to show up and pretend to have fun.

Pansy had clucked her tongue at the mess atop Hermione’s head, but she’d set to work immediately. No chiding remarks about missing the carefully scheduled appointment with the sharpest hairdresser in Wizarding London, nothing at all. Pansy knew Hermione was as stubborn as they come, and likely knew any chiding would simply be ignored, would bounce off the glazed over expression she donned whenever necessary.

Instead, Pansy had simply done her hair, and Hermione was left to admire it in the mirror in the few minutes before the guests began arriving.

“So, um, how many are you expecting this evening?” Hermione asked, dripping with what she hoped was nonchalance.

Pansy rolled her eyes.  “Draco’s coming.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“You inferred.”

“No. _ You _ did.”

Pansy’s eyes rolled in such a way, it was likely audible from downstairs. “Three shags is a relationship, Mione. Whether or not you two idiots want to call it that. It’s completely understandable to want to know if your bloke is coming to the party. Although, I think you might have just asked him.”

It was Hermione’s turn to roll her eyes. “He’s not my bloke, Pans. And three shags is just… three shags. If he wanted anything more from me, he’d have bloody well asked for it.”

“Yes, but what do  _ you _ want?” Pansy asked, straightening her own mask in the mirror.

Hermione shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe a fourth shag might be nice.  And a fifth. He’s well fit, after all. And maybe dinner eventually. Is it after the fourth or the fifth shag that a bloke asks you to dinner?”

Pansy made a disgusted sound, to which Hermione grinned in reply.

“I’m going to check on the food, you just… don’t muss your hair until later on, alright?”

“Alright, alright…” Hermione said. “I’ll be the picture of propriety.”

“Now, I didn’t say  _ that _ ,” Pansy teased, winking as she swept from the room.

Masquerade balls were something Hermione had assumed to go out with corsets and hand fans, but apparently, they were all the rage this season, according to Pansy. And if anyone knew about rages and seasons, it was Pansy Parkinson.

Hermione ran her hands down the gown Pansy’d had made for her. Salmon coloured silk, with light gold trim. Her mask was made to match, and her hair, now finished, was done up in so many braids, twisting and turning around her head, it was impossible to find where one began and another ended.

That, combined with the dark scarlet lippy and the intense eyeliner that curled around the edge of her mask...

Hermione was unrecognizable.  Which, she supposed, was all that was required at a masquerade ball.

She hoped she  _ did _ see Draco. Maybe she’d fool him into thinking she was someone else.

A chuckle bubbled up from her belly. Fat chance. Draco could likely recognize her gait from across a crowded ballroom.

But it would be fun to give anonymity a go.

 

* * *

 

 

She walked down the stairs with Pansy, but soon broke off from her friend so as not to clue anyone in to her identity.

Truth be told, she wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for Pansy, this very thing was the subject of a recurring stress dream she had on the regular. Going to a party where no one knew her and she knew no one save a man with whom she was carrying on a secret affair.

She lifted a flute of Giggle Water from a tray that was bewitched to float around the room, and took a tiny sip, suppressing the giggle that threatened to burst forth as she watched the other guests.

From a people-watching perspective, this was an ideal situation. She could watch as many people as she wanted, and no one would be any the wiser.

But she wasn’t alone for long, as was to be expected at a party where mingling without bias was the expectation.

A man sidled up to her.  A man whose strut and half-tipsy ‘hello darling’ clued her into his identity before he’d even spoken a full sentence.

“Mr. Nott,” she said with a tilt of her head.

“How did you--” He squinted through his darkly glittering mask to try to ascertain her identity. “How did you do that?”

“I know your routine, I’m afraid, and you’ve done nothing to disguise yourself other than donning that mask, Theo…”

He pursed his lips in annoyance and dipped his head in a semblance of a bow as he sauntered off from whence he came.

Hermione took another sip from her glass, allowing the giggle to manifest itself as a sly chuckle as she went back to watching the room.

Harry and Ginny were across the length of the ballroom, and she supposed she could go over and sit with them for the entirety of the evening. She was weighing the pros and cons of such a venture when a hand appeared on her waist, fingers curling around her body, a squeeze in greeting as the sharp scent of wormwood flooded the air around her.

Wormwood reminded her of one person. As did the familiar way the hand was placed at her waist.

“Malfoy,” she said evenly, smirking as she took another sip of Giggle Water.

“Granger,” was his level response. “You’re looking ravishing.”

“Ravishing?” she said, turning to face him. “You can’t even see my face.”

His lips curled into a smirk as he reached for the glass in her hand. “I think you know as well as I do that you needn’t see someone’s face in order to ravish them.”

Heat pooled in her belly as his hand pressed against her lower back, pulling her closer.

She did know. She knew very well.

She turned to face him, feeling herself fall just a bit more.

And that was what it was. A fall. It wasn’t some sweet little liasion. It was a full-fledged fall from grace.

“I was told you’d be here,” she said, her voice low.

“I wasn’t…”

Hermione couldn’t help but smile. “Pansy is…”

“Pansy is a shit,” Draco concluded. “But, I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

“Shall we dance?” he asked, gesturing to the dance floor.

“Let’s.”

* * *

 

 

She wasn’t sure about dancing, but this was a lot more fun than she’d realized she’d be having.

Her shoes slid on the floor as she fought to keep her skirts hiked up around her hips.

Draco’s arms were wrapped around her thighs, holding her in place as his tongue fluttered a soft rhythm over her clit.

“Fuck…” Hermione whimpered, her muscles clenching as he hit  _ just _ the right spot, sliding over it and back again. If he kept it up like this, she’d be finishing in record time.

He grunted from below her, tongue never ceasing as he gripped her thighs, urging her to rock over his face. 

She did, her knees pressing down on either side of his ears as her soft noises began to echo in the Parkinson’s upstairs guest room.

They hadn’t made it to the bed, simply collapsing onto the floor as Draco fought with Hermione’s undergarments to latch his mouth over her aching clit.

He’d been teasing her for the entire dance, telling her exactly what he’d rather be doing. Where’d he’d like his hands to go, where he’d like hers to go.

And she’d asked him to put his money where his mouth was, so to speak

And now, here they were. She was riding his face on the floor of the Parkinson’s guest room.  Her face flushed as he pleasured her thoroughly.

Her orgasm, when it hit, came as a surprise. It knocked a cry from her lungs, one that echoed in the empty room and was certainly audible from downstairs.  Or would be if the music wasn’t so loud.

His fingers began to stroke her thighs, to soothe her as she rocked against his face, whimpering as she pushed up on shaky legs to allow him to wriggle from beneath her.

He got tangled in her gown, his dress robes causing even more problems as she reached for his fly, pulling down the zip and popping open the buttons to remove his cock from its silken prison. She ran her hand up and down the length, feeling the heat and the want pulsing through him as he gazed down at her with reverence. 

Hermione took him in her mouth, softly sucking the head as he crooned her name, his hand in her hair as he coaxed her further down the shaft. She let him lead her where he wanted her, but once she got there, she smacked his hand away. This was her show and she was in charge.

As the head of his cock pressed against the back of her throat, she let her tongue sweep sloppily over the bottom of his member, holding the spot until her chest ached from lack of air, which she gulped in upon pulling back.

His hands gripped the sides of his robes and he babbled, chanting her name as she worked her way back down his cock, more quickly this time. She could feel the desire pulse through him as she mapped out his prick with her lips. Her tongue.  She followed throbbing veins, teasing him until she could suck him back to the back of her throat again. She bobbed there, Keeping him in until she had to slide back again.

This time, instead of teasing, she took him right back in.  She inhaled on the upstrokes, feeling his cock brush the back of her throat on every single downstroke.

His body was quivering, her name was a chant. A prayer of thanks as his belly grew taut, his cock impossibly hard.

Hermione couldn’t help but moan at the thought of his cock deep inside her, but she knew this was better.  Knew that if she pulled him out, rolled over and hiked up her skirts, he’d just cum inside her. And wouldn’t that be a mess?

“I’m close,” he whispered, his thumb moving along her cheek as she wrapped her hand around the base, working him fast and hard like he liked. Feeling the hot drops of his release as they splashed around her mouth, inside her mouth.  On her neck.

“Fuck, fuck, bloody fucking hell, Granger…” he moaned, his hand on her face as he swept his thumb around the mess he left there, gathering it and stuffing it into her mouth.  She sucked on his thumb for a long moment, swallowing thickly as he watched.

She licked her lips and he practically swooned, kneeling down on the floor in front of her

“You are so fucking gorgeous,” he said, grinning lazily as he curled around her waist.

“You’re just saying that because of the bloody fantastic blow job I just gave you.”

“No I’m not,” he argued, fingers playing with the light gold trim on her gown. “I’m saying that because you’re fucking gorgeous.”

“Yeah, I am, aren’t I?” she said with a smirk. “Some nice man had better snap me up before some rogue arsehole who can’t even talk to me fully clothed ruins me for all other men.”

“Why can’t I do both?”

“My, my, Draco. Are you suggesting that I date you  _ and _ some nice man? I didn’t take you for someone capable of sharing.”

He snorted.  “Not bloody likely… I’m just saying that I can be a nice man too.”

“Oh you can?” she scoffed.

“Yes. I can take you on a mini-break, and we can pick flowers and row boats and read daft poetry to each other until we fall into blissful sleep… and then I can wake you up with my cock in your tight little quim and fuck you until you can’t remember your name… I can do  _ both _ things.”

She chuckled wryly. “Then why haven’t you?”

“I didn’t know you wanted both.” His fingers trailed up her spine, making her shiver.

“Well, maybe I do. I dunno.”

“Well, when you figure it out, clue me in, because Merlin knows I’d do anything to keep you, Hermione.” The teasing bite was gone from his voice, in its place was a pure, unadulterated desperation that she liked very much.

“Perhaps I’m not a woman to be kept, Draco.”

“Well, I’d do anything to have  _ you _ keep me, then.”

**Author's Note:**

> <3 <3 <3 Leave me some sugar if you want! <3


End file.
